Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2015 11:29:30 +0000
From: Joe Ferns
Subject: Coming Together
Coming Together 1
Usual warnings apply – this story is about teenboys getting messy. It was
started when a friend told me about an incident he witnessed at a railway
station. All I did was elaborate. So this is dedicated to Peter who
started it and who later interfered – my word for edited.
Robbie sat and stared. His dad was reading the newspaper while his mother
was staring at herself in the little mirror that she kept in a little
silver box in her handbag. Robbie glanced around the crowded platform but
nobody else seemed to be interested; in fact as far as Robbie could make
out nobody else seemed to have noticed. But Robbie had noticed and Robbie
was most definitely interested. He adjusted his sitting position so that
his own erection was less prominent in his white Manchester United shorts
and returned his gaze to the two boys further along the platform.
They looked older than Robbie, maybe seventeen or so. The boy who was
sitting on the next bench over was bouncing one knee up and down in his
grey sweatpants . His mate, who was standing in front of him, within a few
feet, was constantly handling himself ... how else could Robbie explain it?
... fiddling with the family jewels. He kept digging his hands inside his
green shorts. Every few seconds he would then take his hands out and
either rub or cup his ... genitals ... from the outside.
"Huh," thought Robbie. "He's so obvious. He's jiggling his balls."
Robbie continued to stare while trying not to appear to be looking in their
direction.
The boy who was standing then started pushing down his shorts, down below
his crotch, revealing his underwear and bulge. White Calvins. And some
bulge, like he had a big one throbbing away in there. Robbie was an expert
on the boy-bulge having spent the whole of last term examining bulges in
the school changing room. He followed this up in the showers by checking
how the actual goods compared to the promise of the bulge.
All this going on while the two boys continued their animated discussion
which Robbie could not follow as he was too far away and besides it was a
bit windy.
"Must be an interesting conversation," thought Robbie. "I mean, what's not
to notice?"
Even though his mate's crotch was at eye level, the boy seated on the bench
seemed unaware of the display.
There was a rumbling noise from somewhere down the line which made the two
boys glanced over. Robbie flushed bright red and turned his head away
sharply. He heard laughter. He glanced back only to see the two boys now
staring at him with wide grins on their faces. Had they known he was
watching all the time? The pair looked at each other and seemed to
chuckle. Then they looked back at Robbie with eyebrows raised.
The one who was standing jerked his head towards the waiting room and
seemed to ask `well?' The one sitting shrugged his shoulders in Robbie's
direction. Both boys then moved off in the direction of the gent's room
with a backward glance as they went.
Robbie thought for a moment.
"I'm just ..." he squeaked. He coughed before he continued. "Just going
to pee. OK?"
Dad grunted.
Robbie followed the pair into the men's room.
One of them stood at the urinal. The other stood close by the door.
Robbie hesitated before going in ....
The one who had been jiggling his balls was standing at the furthest away
of the two urinals. He pulled down his shorts and underwear at the front,
letting his dick flop out. The other one stood by the door, rubbing his own
crotch through his sweatpants, to the rhythm of one knee moving back and
forth.
Robbie hesitated before going in... Story of my life, thought Robbie, all
this hesitation.
Then, suddenly, he made up his mind and strode to the empty urinal,
accidentally touching the swaying sweatpants boy as he brushed past.
"Sorry..."
"No problem" answered the boy, pushing down his sweats and underwear enough
to show off dark pubic hairs.
Robbie's heart started beating even faster. Standing in front of the
urinal, he pulled up the leg of his Manchester U shorts and let his boner
spring free.
"Holy shit!" The boy at the door let out. He walked up towards Robbie to
shield the view of him from anyone else that might enter through the door.
The penis of the green shorts boy in the corner shot up even as he was
peeing, shooting its yellow stream up on the wall above the urinal.
Robbie laughed.
"Damn!" said Greenboy, and forced his boner down, finishing his piss into
the urinal.
Robbie started stroking his boner, showing off to his new friends.
"Maybe we should go into the toilet stall?" suggested Greenboy.
"Dude, no, his parents are right outside!" warned the other boy, pulling up
his sweats to better cover his own boner.
"When's your train?" asked Greenboy.
"Not for another ten minutes" Robbie replied confidently.
Greenboy reached to take hold of Robbie's cock. "How old are you?" he asked.
"Fourteen. You?" replied Robbie.
"That's a lotta hair for a fourteen year old" remarked Greenboy.
"Seventeen, we're both seventeen" said Sweatpants. "Look, maybe we should
try to get together some other time... Where do you live?"
"Newport. I'm taking the train to Newport" replied Robbie.
"So are we!" answered Greenboy, big smile lighting up his face.
"We still got ten minutes ..." Robbie said, letting his remark trail off in
expectation. He flexed his stiff cock in Greenboy's hand.
Greenboy laughed and tightened his grip round Robbie's hard cock. He
nodded at his friend.
"Keep edgy at the door, mate, and I'll take first shot on the kiddo's spunk
shooter."
The teen who had approached the urinal to watch the action now nodded
agreement and moved off back towards the door. Greenboy shucked his shorts
down to his knees then his Calvins.
"Boy on boy?" he asked as he thrust his hips in Robbie's direction as if
offering his well hard cock for the other lad to fondle.
"Sure!" Robbie answered quickly as he closed his hand around the other
boy's member. The guardboy at the doorway glanced over and licked his lips
as he watched the two boys lean into each other, each wanking the other's
cock with a sweet, slow rhythm.
"The kid's hot," he thought to himself as he focused on Robbie's
well-rounded ass which was starting to move in rhythm with the wank as
Robbie began to fuck the other lad's fist.
"Leave some for me," he pleaded.
Robbie half turned and grinned.
"Don't sweat it. There's plenty between the Robbie legs."
"Too right," Greenpants shouted over to his pal. "The kid's like a fucking
stallion. And I reckon he ain't emptied his nads in weeks."
"You joking, mate?" snorted Robbie as he tightened his grip on the other
lad's meat.
"Soon as we saw that look on your face, kid, we knew you was up for it."
"Aye and the way you was flashing the boy goods and I knew you lads were
game."
"Time's up. I canna wait."
The boy at the door advanced towards the urinals with his cock already at
attention. Reluctantly Greenpants released Robbie and tugged his green
shorts over his throbbing stiffie.
Robbie turned, cock aloft, to greet his new wank bud. They set to. Like
stags they locked horns. One excited by what he had just seen, the other
already well sexed by Greenpants' attention. In no time both lads were
groaning and grunting as climax neared.
"Shut the fuck up, you pair," hissed the green watcher at the threshold.
The wankers grunted even louder and then one sighed a deep, deep outpouring
of breath. Then the other did likewise. Both had cummed.
"So not fair," muttered the boy at the door.
Robbie turned and grinned as he tugged his pants back up.
"Your turn on the Robbie sex goods next time,mate. Meantime you best just
nurse `em blue balls."
As he moved away he tugged an old receipt from his pocket and scribbled on
it with the pencil stump he kept in his pocket.
Handing it over he said, "My mobbie number. Call me. And hey ..."
He turned to the boy at the door.
... "Better hurry pack that pecker away. I hear choo choo."
*****************
Robbie sat beside his parents on the train unable to believe what he had
just done. If he stretched up he could see the two lads further up the
carriage; they were carrying on their animated conversation as if it had
never been interrupted. From where he was seated, however, Robbie could
not see if the boy in the shorts was still playing billiards.
"Crow at dawn ..." dad muttered with a frown as he stared at the crossword.
"Raven?" suggested mum.
"No, it's only got four letters."
"Cock," murmured Robbie.
"What!"
"Cock, dad. It's cock. Cocks are birds and they crow at dawn."
"Mmmm."
And father resumed his study of the puzzle.
Robbie continued to think about cock. He had just gone boy on boy with a
seventeen year old. In fact two of them had been taking turns wanking on
his cock and he had had his fist round two teenboy sperm-shooters.
"Wow." It was so unlike him. Other boys at school were much more ...
Robbie paused. More what, he wondered? He concluded that they were more
matter of fact about sex. Most of them made no great thing about stripping
off in the locker-room, didn't seem to be bothered about who might be
checking them out. Even in the showers most of them seemed pretty laid
back. Like that time Morris had got an erection. Muiry and his pals had
laughed and commented on it. Morris had just shrugged and gone on
lathering his pits. Robbie had blushed. For God's sake, it was Morris who
had got the hard-on but it was Robbie who had blushed. Luckily they were
in the showers and nobody had noticed but Robbie had felt his own cock
twinge and he had had to make a sharp exit without rinsing as thoroughly as
he would have liked.
Muiry and his gang seemed to have no trouble dealing with sex. Like that
time at the end of term when they had been allowed to do a kind of concert
in music class. That lot had done a take-off of One Direction and it had
been very close to obscene – so Robbie thought. Not that he was too sure
what twerking was but he was convinced that was what they were doing and it
was very ... well, arousing, Robbie had to admit. Mr Latham, the music
teacher, had seemed singularly unconcerned.
Why did he find it all so unsettling, these things that other boys seemed
to take in their stride? Like that time in the toilets, when Gemmell had
been taking a piss and Keith Brian had just leaned there casually against
the next urinal chatting away to him all the time. Chatting to him while
he had his cock out! Several stalls along Robbie had felt himself stiffen
even just being aware they were there. His stream of piss had dried up and
he had had to zip up and get out.
All of which made it more perplexing that he had just gone into a toilet
and made the pace, led the way, taken the lead. It was all so out of
character.
"God," he blushed. "He didn't even have an erection until I pulled mine
out."
He peered over the seats once more. They were still talking away in that
animated fashion. He was pretty sure they had never even glanced back once
in his direction. But then, if they had, he would have been so
embarrassed. All of which brought him back to the point. Why had he acted
as he did? He had even given them his contact number. Here, his mind
diverged from the path it had been on. He found himself hoping that they
would call him, suggest meeting up.
"Your turn next time."
That's what he had said. That was the assurance Greenpants had got, that
he would get first go with Robbie next time. Next time ...
Robbie felt his cock swell in his pants and he carefully adjusted his
position.
*******************
Harry stepped over his mother as he made his way to the cookie jar. It was
Monday and she was on her knees loading the washing machine.
"Careful!"
"Sorry, mom. Boy's gotta eat, ya know."
"As if I didn't!"
She tossed a tee-shirt into the machine and started to go through the
pockets of his sweatpants. Harry had a habit of leaving all kinds of
rubbish in his pockets – train tickets, sweet wrappers, half chewed
bubblegum. What his mother really hated though was if he left used tissues
in his pockets. They tended to disintegrate in the machine and then all
the washing came out flecked with shreds of paper. However, Harry rarely
left tissues in his sweatpants; he mostly used them to clean up spunk after
a wank and not to blow his snotty nose. A boy does not want his mom
tidying up his cumrags.
"You want this?" she asked, fetching some paper out of his pocket.
Curious, Harry reached for the offered paper.
"Mm," he murmured casually. "Forgot about that." And with that, he stuck
the paper into his clean sweatpants pocket.
Later that day he was sitting on the edge of Jimbo's bed when he produced
that same piece of paper.
"Hey, forgot he gave us this. It was in my sweats."
"What is it?"
"Mobbie number. That kid's. Remember?"
"Fuck, yeah! The one that came on to us that day? He gave you his mobbie
number! Keen little fucker, then."
"He was one right little boy tart, the way he made a grab for my bollocks
soon as he came into the pisser and then straight up to you to flash his
boy-bone. Total wee poofter."
"Man, couldn't believe it! Saunters into the pisser and flips out this
hard cock like it was ... normal! Fuck's sake, man!"
"Well, you responded fast enough if I remember right. Never seen you bone
up that fast. Pish fountains all over the shop!" Harry laughed.
"Any lad would have been the same. Fuck, Harry, a boy stands next you and
flicks out a hard one ... well, any lad is going to bone up."
"So? You think we should call him?"
"Call him!" exclaimed Jimbo. "What the fuck for? What we want with a rent
boy? Bet he charges his mates at school for blow jobs."
Harry giggled as he imagined a sign pasted on a cubicle door – HAND JOBS,
$1 : BLOW JOBS $2.
"Remember Davie Stanton at school? Nobody wanted to sit next to him. Soon
as you sat down he'd have his hand stuck between your legs. The lads said
he did the park at night making pocket money off the oldies."
"Yeah," replied Jimbo thoughtfully. "Maybe best you just bin that. God
knows what we might catch."
Harry paled at this.
"You serious? I mean ... he fucking spunked off Jimbo. You think we might
have caught something?"
"Nah," scorned Jimbo. "We didn't munch on him did we? You got to eat the
stuff or get it rammed up where the sun don't shine."
Harry rubbed his left ass-cheek and felt reassured. He tossed the slip of
paper into the rubbish basket.
"Man, this talk is making me horny," admitted Jimbo.
Harry nodded.
"Me too."
"Reckon we better help each other out? "
The two lads semi-reclined on the bed and pulled down their zips. Reaching
in they each pulled out their cock. Without exchanging another word, each
leaned across to grasp his mate's appendage. They proceeded to wank each
other as they had been doing since they were twelve. It felt good to have
your fist round another lad's cock while your own was getting pumped to
cumming point.
Sometime later, after his friend Harry had gone, Jimbo retrieved the slip
of paper from the bin. After all, he thought, you never know when that
might come in handy.
*******************
It was Tuesday afternoon, after PE funnily enough, that Robbie got a text
from a number his mobile didn't recognise. He was in the same mood as
usually overtook him after PE lessons. It wasn't so much that he was horny
but more that he was even more pre-occupied with sex than usual. The
lesson had been about the various techniques athletes had used in high
jump. All the boys really wanted to do was to get busy with the fosbury
flop; there was something spectacularly daring about it which appealed to
boys. The master, however, insisted in talking about `scissors' and
`western rolls' and in getting various boys to demonstrate. That was where
the problem started.
Muiry had been called out to give the first demonstration. Not so much
`called out' actually, but more had volunteered himself quite volubly.
Muiry had a tendency to do that. He was bare-chested (another of Muiry's
tendencies) and he had rolled up the waist-band of his gym-shorts so that
they pouched around his genitals. There was no mistaking that Muiry was
all-boy and was well into his adolescence. As he ran up to execute his
scissor jump his wank-kit moved despite the grip the gym shorts provided
around it. Robbie (who tended to look in that direction anyway (that is
crotch-wise) was transfixed. And that was that. For the rest of the
lesson he checked out every lad who was called upon to demonstrate and when
it was his turn, when the master called upon him (as he was bound to do as
Robbie was an athletic kid), there was no disguising Robbie's state of
excitement. Other boys would have carried that off with a swagger, proud
to display their masculinity. Robbie was, however, embarrassed and he
blushed a bright, hot red. The others struggled to suppress their giggles
but at the same time were secretly impressed with Robbie's obviously
generous endowment.
He was on his way out of the changing room when his phone buzzed in his
pocket. Mobiles were meant to be switched off in school but most of the
lads simply put them on silent and made sure no staff were about if they
wanted to make use of them.
"Hi. Fancy meeting up?"
That was all it said. From an unknown number. It didn't take long for
Robbie to work out that it most likely came from the lads he had met at
the station that day. What to do? At the station he had acted on
impulse, hadn't thought about what he was doing far less thought about what
he was going to do. Robbie was a boy who gave a lot of thought to such
things – what to say, what to do, how to act or react. He spent far too
much time thinking things through and considering possible consequences.
The PE master had had words with him about that.
"Rob, you have the potential to be one of the best players in the year but
you think too much, don't go with your instinct. Out there on the field
there isn't time to argue through all the options. This is not a Math
exercise. Trust yourself. Go with it."
Robbie knew that this was true. He was way more talented than Muiry for
example but when it came to first pick Muiry had it every time. He had
... Robbie chuckled to himself. In his head he had been thinking that
Muiry had `class' but that was ridiculous. The one thing Muiry did not
have was class. He had chutzpah, that's what he had. Robbie nodded sagely
to himself. He liked the word. Leon Jaffe had taught him it that time
after the end of term show when Petrie forgotten his lines in the panto and
just went ahead and improvised.
He decided he'd wait till after Chemistry class before replying.
He hadn't meant to, he had really intended to forget all about the text
until after class but in the end he spent the whole lesson thinking about
it. As a result as soon as class was over he decided he had better get it
over with and reply. Yes or no?
It was then that another thought struck him. What if the text wasn't from
these Newport guys? Now that was so much easier to deal with. A decision
was quickly made.
"Who is this?" was what he sent.